I Begin
by Copper Tragic
Summary: The number of the Orcs is growing. Elladan and Elrohir ride out to warn the nearby Dunedain and find themselves entangled in something larger than they bargained for.
1. Eve

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Lord of the Rings' or any recognizable characters and/or places thereof  
  
Author's note: This story is set in early winter. I do not believe Tolkien stated that the events were specifically during any season, however, if he did, I will gladly fix my story to follow canon.  
  
*****  
  
Elladan leaned against the neck of his horse and gazed at the horizon. The last pink glows of day faded in the western sky. Long shadows cast across his path from the trees either side of him. A chill was setting into the night; Elladan knew this although he remained unaffected by it. Soon the Dunedain would move south, rains would fall and snow. It was like to be a heavy snow, the evenings so cold this early in the season.  
  
"Elladan." The aforementioned turned to meet the grey eyes of his brother, riding beside him. Elrohir motioned to the north-east, ahead of he brothers. "Look. Smoke rises not a mile away."  
  
"The Dunedain?" asked Elladan, catching his brother's insinuation. "Of course, who else." He smiled. "We will catch them tonight after all." That very morn the twins left their father's house to seek the Dunedain, to warn them of the increasing number of Orc sightings reported in the area. If not on their guard, the Dunedain were likely to meet an uncomfortable end. So it was that the twins nodded at each other and nudged their mounts to a canter.  
  
Giddy with speed and freedom, the two hardly realized they were racing until a competitive streak tugged within them both. Ducking beneath branches and hurtling fallen logs, they Elves grinned as first one, then the other pulled into the lead. They had not contested against each other in far too long. Despite their age, adults by Elven standards, the enjoyment of a healthy challenge had not yet failed to thrill them.  
  
When their ears alerted them to the close proximity of the Dunedain camp, the Elves slowed to a trot, then a quick walk. At the edge of the camp they stopped and took their feet from the irons, identically dismounting to the horses' left sides. These two were known to the Dunedain and caused little commotion. Around the temporary shelters of tents children played, and adults sat beside cookfires. One young boy struggled to make out the words of a text by the firelight, stammering over especially long terms. It seemed so peaceful, and for a moment Elrohir was taken by this feeling, watching from without, and wished he needed not warn them off approaching ill times.  
  
"Elrohir," his brother said quietly. "You know the options we face. It is best they know." Lest they die, Elladan left not said. "Do you see Arathorn?" They were known well enough to the Dunedain chieftain that they referred to him by his name bereft of titles. Elrohir nodded and Elladan turned to see the Man approaching them. He appeared young for his sixty years, a tail of black hair tied at the nape of his neck showing no signs of silver or grey, blue-grey eyes yet to lose their lively appearance. "Hail Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dunedain!" called Elladan.  
  
"Hail Lords Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond, Lord of Imladris," returned Arathorn, then with a smile shook aside necessary niceties. "It is a joy to see you again, my friends. Yet so often when you come it is in warning, or to aid us in dire moments. Do you bear ill tidings for my people this day?"  
  
"Regretfully," Elladan replied. "Where might we leave our tack? These mounts have served us well, and we owe them a debt."  
  
"Of course," Arathorn replied. "Forgive my forwardness. These may be picketed with our horses to the camp's western edge. Come, I will lead you there."  
  
Following the Man, Elladan inquired, "Are you and your people well, Arathorn?"  
  
"We are," said Arathorn, "and your kin in the valley?"  
  
"We also fare well. Yet yours, as you feared on our arrival, may be in danger," Elrohir returned as the twins saw to their tack.  
  
Arathorn nodded gravely. "Please, tell me more," he said. "I would know our dangers."  
  
"You are a good man for it," Elrohir said. For a moment both twins were silent as they worked, Elladan engaged with a troublesome cinch and Elrohir muttering soothing words to his somewhat antisocial mare. Arathorn stood patiently as they saw to their mounts. At last the twins returned to their mortal friend and ally. "without further ado and with considerable bluntness: the Orcs' numbers are growing," Elrohir stated as the three walked slowly through the encampment. "There have been more than three times the usual number reported near Imladris over the past two years."  
  
Arathorn nodded to this, accepting and considering it. "We will move south soon. Until this time, I will have the night watch doubled. This is indeed most unfortunate." His voice and face conveyed his worry. The Elves were quiet for a moment, walking beside their troubled friend. At last Arathorn asked, "Know you if these Orcs come most from north, east, south or west? I would rethink our route south, were another safer."  
  
"They seem everywhere," Elladan was sorry to report.  
  
"I shall have the guard doubled," Arathorn muttered. "Were you in my position, what would you do?" The Man had never been too proud to ask assistance, something the twins valued in him.  
  
"Exactly what you are doing," Elrohir said. "Be on your guard at all times. Perhaps seek safety within the walls of your kingdom of Gondor when you journey south. Head south as swiftly as possible, though we know not of the situation in the southern lands."  
  
"Thank you for your council," Arathorn said, shaking his head. "Ah." He looked ahead at a pretty woman sitting near to a fire playing with a child, hardly more than a year old. The child seemed to be learning to walk, none too well. "If you will excuse me a moment," Arathorn said to the Elves, and took leave of them. He embraced the woman, whom the twins now recognized as Lady Gilraen, and kissed her cheek, then swept the boy into the air playfully. "Elladan, Elrohir," said Arathorn, returning to his friends. "This is my son, Aragorn." Turning to the boy now held in his arms, he asked, "Aragorn, will you greet Elladan and Elrohir?"  
  
The boy took one look at the Elves and his eyes grew wide. "Greetings," he muttered quickly, lisping slightly, then squirmed to bury his head in his father's tunic. Elladan and Elrohir smiled.  
  
"Greetings from Imladris, little one," Elrohir returned quietly in Elvish. The strange words interested the boy, who peeked out for a moment, then hid his face again quickly.  
  
Arathorn suggested quietly that his son return to his mother for a moment, then set the boy on the ground and watched carefully as he half-walked over to Gilraen. "Forgive his shyness, he is only a child."  
  
"He is a sweet boy," Elladan said. "How many years is he now?"  
  
"Hardly two years," Arathorn said. "He speaks little and walks uneasily, but we hold hope for him yet."  
  
"Yet your woman is again with child?" Elladan could hardly help but ask.  
  
"Well noticed! Not for this reason, however. But come! Will you join us for supper?"  
  
The twins did, enjoying the happy feeling of this family. There was so much love between them, so many easy smiles. Their family, too, had been this way once, and being around this young family made Elladan and Elrohir long for their own mother. Yet by the flickering firelight they slipped into the matrix of these three, and found themselves laughing and smiling easily as days of old. Aragorn hazarded more and more glances at the twins, until at last he fell asleep in his mother's arms.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued 


	2. Night

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
Author's Note: I looked and for the life of me could not find who leads the Dúnedain after Arathorn is slain. Halbarad seemed something of a leader in Return of the King, so the man who inherits the title of chieftain in this story is supposed to be Halbarad's grandfather. I'm sorry if this is wrong; corrections appreciated.  
  
*****  
  
"Elladan."  
  
He sat far enough from the fire that only his silhouette was visible, a solid form outlined against the night's inky blackness. Stars glimmered overhead, and softened the blow of the darkness, though they offered from it no relief. Here any man was free to release, his vices and shames immersed and lost in the night's pitch. Here any killer might be forgiven, any trespasser forgiven. Here was solitude, here was bliss. Here innocence.  
  
Elrohir sat beside his brother, though was more cautious, for while Elladan kept his bow beside him, one idle hand fingering the string, Elrohir laid his own bow over his lap, an arrow held loosely between his fingers. "What do you think of Arathorn's boy?" Elrohir asked, gazing as his brother did into the curtained labyrinth of the trees.  
  
"Mentally retarded," Elladan answered with his characteristic bluntness. "I would think him lucky should his years number more than five ere he dies; Arathorn is right to have Gilraen again with child. Im ú-cheb estel an Aragorn." Elladan shook his head, then added, "Nor should you."  
  
Elrohir chuckled, for he knew his brother well. "Are not you the sentimental one, Brother? Do not you often attempt to protect me?" In their youth, it had been Elrohir who delighted in study and Elladan in fighting, through fighting he came to learning and only through healing did he come to love things that live, yet he did so not with a student's curiosity, but with a fighter's zeal. His role as eldest, too, he had been taken seriously, though the words that had sparked this within him he had not shared, even with his brother, the other half of himself.  
  
Suddenly Elladan's mood became solemn and alert: Elrohir could not see the change in his brother, but he could sense it. Pricking up his ears, Elrohir knew what his brother sensed and readied his arrow. "Yrch!" he cried, then, remembering his present company, "Orcs!"  
  
The horses knew it next, and they whinnied and stomped their feet against the ground. "I would free them, but would not risk my own life on it," Elladan commented. The sound of snapping ropes was quick to follow: in their panic, the horses freed themselves. Their hoofbeats disappeared into the night, and the twins said a prayer for them: may they find freedom, and not at the hands of the Orcs.  
  
The sounds of Men readying themselves, their weapons and their courage came almost at once. Cries rang out into the silent night, and Elrohir--as the twins moved into a more lighted space--gave his brother a look critical of the edain. Their cries were loud; had the enemy any confusion as to their location, it was now scattered.  
  
"Form a perimeter around the camp!" Arathorn called, commanding his men in their confusion. "Every man with a blade!" He had prepared for this, it seemed, and not at all to the twins' surprise: they knew him as a wise man.  
  
When the Orcs came, the twins spotted them first. Elladan shot at the trees when he heard a rustling noise, and it seemed luck had bent his bow, for he heard an Orc fall. Enraged cries, harsh Orc voices, followed the dull thudding sound as their full number poured from the covering of trees. Elrohir and Elladan fired two, three arrows at once, their shots rarely if ever going astray. There was a fury to their eyes and a delight at every kill, though not the battle-rage that was aroused in many at the sound of metal clashing against metal, more a vengeful delight they knew for obscene yet refused to dispose of.  
  
The men fared badly that night. Their vision was not as strong as that of the Elves, nor their luck, nor could they using their hearing as well. Many fell amidst the screams and cries that came from Men and Orcs, a number later to be tallied, the bodies to be burned with all respect. After minutes only the number of competitors was much thinned, and the Men were losing hope. The Elves had taken up their swords, their enemies too close to use bows now.  
  
A tragic rescue came to them now, and that was the scream of a woman. Danger closer, their women and babes in jeopardy, the Men fought again with renewed vigor. Even women, though few, came to the fighting to protect their young ones. The Men had prepared to fight to the last: equally had the Orcs.  
  
In the end, it was the Orcs who fulfilled this, but this mattered little. The concept of children and parents, of brotherhood, fellowship and of love for one another, was altogether foreign to the Orcs. Men found that of those for whom they had fought, few ere left alive. This raid was one of the worst in decades.  
  
The battled rage until dawn, when a rosy glow came over the camp. The blood of Men and Orcs mingled, limbs and heads lay unattached to bodies. "What perversion," said Elladan to his brother, "that though they came from our kind, it is Men who pay the Orcs' price."  
  
"We are kin to them, as well," Elrohir said, and with his brother turned to the survivors. They stumbled as babes new to the world, uncertain, none taking command of the situation. "Where is Arathorn?" Elrohir called. The Men startled at this, and turned to him, but none offered a word.  
  
"Dead," came the call at last. "I saw him grievous injured, though know not where his body lies."  
  
"Then who rules here?" Elrohir asked, quenching the whispers that flitted through the crowd. When no answer came, he called impatiently, "Who rules?"  
  
"I. . .I do, I suppose," said a battle-weary man, and to the positive replies of his comrades stepped forward. He carried himself well and with pride. "Sir," he added to the twins.  
  
"Elbereth watch over you," Elrohir said to him, painfully aware of the number of eyes on him. "Your name?"  
  
"Halembé, my lords."  
  
"No longer, Halembé. We are your equals now, and we speak for all Imladris when we wish you luck, and hope our two peoples may retain our alliances." When one or another of the twins spoke in public, in especial to large groups, they said often "we" in place of "I", for in this manner they thought, and few could tell one from the other. "Now lead your people, Halembé."  
  
It was later, as they assisted in the salvaging of the camp, that Elladan found Lady Gilraen.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued! Oh, but I love cliff-hangers. I'll try to have the next bit up in a more timely manner. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!  
  
Grumpy: Well, into the technical it's not canon for Gilraen to have a second pregnancy. . .you'll see next chapter why I'm getting away with it. 


	3. Dawn

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any recognizable characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
"Sweet Eru," Elladan gasped. "Oh, lady." He dropped to the ground beside her, his knee catching what his eye did not. "You used this, my Lady?" he asked, hardly wincing as he drew the dagger from beneath his knee. The blood on the blade was not Orcish, but Elladan did not worry: it likely was his own. Yet no Orcs lay nearby. . ."Lady?" he asked urgently. She was looking faint.  
  
"Lord Elladan. . ." her voice trailed off, and with the same vague qualities her hand trailed to her dress, where she brushed aside folds of fabric to reveal a bloody stain. The material too was torn here, though Elladan felt not guilty for looking upon her bare skin under such circumstances.  
  
"Just wait, Lady Gilraen, please. My brother is the healer, not I." He cursed himself for never learning more of healing. Rarely would it be that Elladan needed tend any wounds on a lady's abdomen, and so it was that he knew little of this area. "Please, I will be just one moment."  
  
Elladan left Lady Gilraen and turned, ran a few paces and stopped. Where was Elrohir? Elladan panicked. "Elrohir!" he shouted, his voice carrying well across the settlement. "Elrohir!" His second cry was shrill and did not carry so far, and for a moment Elladan worried that his brother was not coming. "What am I going to do?" he asked himself. "What shall I do?"  
  
He sky had turned now from grey to pink to blue, and at last morning was under way. The niceties of day were perversion then: birdcalls, blue sky unbroken, all of it sickening. So many had been lost, the thought of taking pleasure in beauty simply disgusted. How long had Gilraen lasted, lying in the dirt? What would happen if her incision had become infected?  
  
"Elladan, what is it?"  
  
"Elrohir! Oh, thank Elbereth for you, Elrohir. Lady Gilraen is over here. . .she is hurt, Elrohir, she needs your help," Elladan managed, a gush of words amidst his worry.  
  
Elrohir nodded, not needing to ask what had happened, for something had disturbed Elladan. This, of course, was not Gilraen's blood, but simply his panic, the sudden jolt of realizing that she indeed might die. "Where is she?"  
  
The twins returned together to the place where Gilraen lay, and as outsiders they observed the scene, and both knew at once from where and whom her injury had come.  
  
*****  
  
"My Lady?"  
  
Many hours had passed. Gilraen had recovered well from her surgery, which had indeed been necessary, and now rested, looking haunted, a blanket resting over her shoulders. For the most part, Gilraen was left alone, her sorrow apparent. As someone addressed her, she turned her face toward the speaker.  
  
"My Lady, your son. . ."  
  
She had been prepared for the death of young Aragorn. What she had not been prepared for was his survival. Seeing one of the Elven twins--she could not tell one from the other, but had earlier guessed which had found her-- holding her child out to her shocked her. He had died, of this her certainties had been secure. Seeing him now alive sunk her, and she sobbed, hiding her face in her arms.  
  
"He has some instinct for survival, it seems, or a great luck," Elrohir said, hoping to comfort the lady. He expected her to be pleased that her son lived, that the terrors of the night had passed and that despite her losses, for Arathorn's death was well known, her child lived on.  
  
Then Elrohir understood. Surely the lady had known when she made that incision exactly what she would do. Though her claim was that she would not have her child fall to the hands of the Orcs, Elrohir understood that this was not so. Gilraen's attempt to remove her child from her womb had been selfish. She grasped at an opportunity. Sick of duty, of acting as a leader, or as a wife, or as mother to this ill young boy, or another post Elrohir knew not of, when she suspected (or had she seen?) her lord dead, suspected Aragorn dead, she had taken the chance to rid herself of Isildur's second heir.  
  
Elrohir thought he would be sick. Gilraen had succeeded, but not by her hand--by Elrohir's. For Gilraen's survival, and because the child would have died no matter what, Elrohir had given the woman the quickest anesthetic possible: he asked Elladan to hit her over the head to knock her unconscious. Then Elrohir had taken a dagger, rubbed it with spirits and heated it over a fire, then cut further into the woman. . .he had removed her unborn child. He hated himself for it, but he had done what was necessary. He thought her injury had been sustained in some noble fashion, thought himself only a healer. Did this make him a murderer?  
  
Aragorn reached for his mother and whimpered. The Elf was strange, and even Mama hardly seemed like Mama. . .and his fear had not left. "Lady, will you not take your child?" Elrohir asked. No response came. "Gilraen!" Elrohir barked, surprising the woman and himself. "Aragorn cries for you, will you not comfort him?"  
  
"I want naught to do with him," Gilraen stated, her eyes frozen. "I am no- one's mother."  
  
"It is shock that causes you to say such things!" Elrohir chided as he held the squirming child tighter. It would not do for him to slip from Elrohir's hold and break his neck--mortal children were so fragile!  
  
"Elrohir," Elladan said, appearing suddenly at his twin's elbow. "Let me hold him a moment." Elrohir handed the two-year-old to Elladan without a second thought. Elladan folded himself to the ground and held the boy upright against his chest, rocking him gently. "Hush now, shh, it is all right," he soothed gently, surprising Gilraen and Elrohir, who turned to stare at him. Aragorn continued to cry, but without his earlier dedication to the task. "There, shh." Folding strands of dark hair behind the child's ear, Elladan whispered a song for Aragorn only to hear. In moments his whimpers ceased, and though he clung to Elladan and sucked his thumb, Aragorn slipped into sleep.  
  
"His mind is underdeveloped," Elladan stated in a quiet voice. "It is just like calming a horse. What do you mean to do with him, Gilraen? Aragorn is in grave danger, and needs protecting."  
  
"Where can I send him to safety?" Gilraen asked, transfixed.  
  
"Imladris," Elladan answered at once, earning him a harsh look from Elrohir. "There is no safer place."  
  
"Elladan," Elrohir warned in Elvish, "you know how Father feels--"  
  
"I am extending this invitation to the Lady and her child," Elladan returned. "What is your decision, Lady Gilraen?"  
  
*****  
  
"I cannot believe you, Elladan! What will Father say?" Elrohir asked, as the twins prepared their horses. Elladan tightened up his cinch, neither answering nor ignoring Elrohir. "What state are you in to raise a child, especially one you expect to die? Oh!" Elrohir gasped. "So that is your plan! You expect him to die! What shall you do if he does not?"  
  
Elladan tugged his saddle a little towards him, then answered, "I will hope, my dear brother. I will hope." In his fury, Elrohir did not ask what Elladan would be hoping for.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
One more chapter, I think  
  
Author's note: I feel the need to apologize for this chapter. It was written over the course of a week, a bit every morning, so if it's a little choppy. . .that's why. Anyway, better than nothing. 


	4. Morrow

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
The rain drummed steadily on Elladan and Elrohir, who sat upright in their saddles, paused on the lip of the valley. The younger twin wore a frown, and moodily he shifted his cloak in an attempt to stay as dry as possible. Elrohir's posture displayed his impatience, the heel of one hand resting on his saddle, both reins in one hand, his eyes fixed on his brother. Elladan clutched the form before him tightly, gazing into the valley, his and Elrohir's home. "Well?" Elrohir asked at last, impatient.  
  
"This is it," Elladan replied worriedly. He turned to his brother, eyes betraying his worry. "Elrohir, what will I do if Father says no? If he refuse the boy, and after I promised Gilraen. . ."  
  
Elrohir smiled and rested a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "We will think of something. It will be all right." For days they had been riding in silence, speaking rarely to each other. Elrohir was angry with Elladan for taking in a child, especially a child Elladan (in Elrohir's opinion) was not fully committed to. Much of this anger had been misdirected from his anger at himself for killing Gilraen's second child, though the measure had been necessary. Elladan, respecting his brother's anger, spent more time looking after Aragorn and less time trying to apologize.  
  
"I'm sorry." Elladan started. That was not what he had meant to say! "I mean, thank you," he amended. "I could never do this alone." Gilraen had parted company with them earlier, leaving her child in Elladan's care. He was certain she had acted out of grief, but had done her bidding and taken Aragorn to the safety of Imladris.  
  
"I know," Elrohir replied. "Perhaps racing would not be best with the little one asleep. Shall we walked on?"  
  
"We shall," Elladan responded, and the boys laughed quietly and nudged their horses forward, down into the valley and the next step of their journey.  
  
When the twins arrived, dripping wet and tired, in Lord Elrond's study, neither was willing to make a noise and get his attention. 'You,' Elrohir mouthed, giving his brother a slight shove. Elladan shook his head. Elrohir motioned to the child in Elladan's arms: this is your business. Elladan replied with harsh motions: but you are in his better graces!  
  
"Are you all right? You look terrible." The boys were spared their decision by their father, who noticed them standing before him, arguing silently.  
  
"Good morrow, Ada," Elladan replied over-brightly. Elrond eyed him with suspicion, which quickly turned to an angry, surprised expression when he spotted Aragorn. "Elladan. . .please explain."  
  
"I. . ." For once, Elladan was at a loss for words. "This is Aragorn. . .he is Arathorn's son." As Elladan spoke the child shifted in his sleep.  
  
"That does not improve the situation. What is he doing here?" Elrond asked. It seemed as though Elladan had kidnapped a future chieftain of the dunedain, which could not possibly turn out well.  
  
"Arathorn was slain. He took an arrow to the eye and. . ."  
  
Elladan's words drifted, and for a time he gave mixed explanations, with his brother's aid, whilst Aragorn slept, dreaming of that night. In his dream, he saw his father stagger into the tent with a stick coming out of his eye and blood covering his face and tunic. There were awful noises in the background, shouts such as Aragorn had never heard, then, as he moved to leave and see what was going on, the tent collapsed. . .For an hour or more he lay in the dark, unable to move the heavy material, then he fell asleep. When next he awoke, it was calm, but he was still trapped. Then he screamed, and screamed, until he was found.  
  
Waking in a strange place, Aragorn cried once more, and clung to the warm body he had come to associate with safety. Elladan looked from his father to his charge, and held the child tighter. "Excuse me, Ada, Elrohir." Elladan inclined his head in a polite farewell and carried the child out of the room.  
  
Later, when Elrond sought his eldest son, he could find him in none of the guest chambers where he might have left Aragorn--there was no sign of Aragorn either. At last Elrond looked in Elladan's own chambers, where he found the Elf speaking softly to Aragorn, who had been placed in Elladan's own bed.  
  
". . .but she did not meet him, and he sprang from the decks and was lost to the sea," Elladan concluded, a short re-telling of the tale of Nimrodel. "There is no more to the story, dear." Aragorn said nothing, but Elladan understood. "I would if I could. Tomorrow I shall tell you a story with a happy ending, would this please you?" He laughed. "All right, little hope. Good night. Go to sleep. Yes, you must." At last Elladan rose and left the bedside, motioning Elrond outside. "He sleeps lightly," Elladan explained, "because of the nightmares, I think."  
  
"Elladan, I do not approve of you bringing this child into our house, especially your doing so without first asking my permission. However, as he is here and has no where else to go, he may stay until the time comes that he may face the world on his own two feet."  
  
"That day. . ." Elladan swallowed. "It may not come, Ada."  
  
"What do you mean?" Elrond asked. Men grew very quickly, he knew this well.  
  
"He may not live past five years, Ada. He is. . .sick." Elladan could think of no more appropriate term.  
  
Elrond took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "All right," he said at last. "He shall stay here until he matures, or until the line of my brother is broken." Father and son faced each other for a moment, seeking to understand each other, feeling akin in their sorrows. A clap of thunder, and a cry from within Elladan' chambers. "A very light sleeper," Elrond commented to his son, as the two returned to comfort the boy.  
  
*****  
  
The End  
  
*****  
  
Author's note: The end of this story, but not the end of this series. The next story I am going to start (hopefully soon) is called 'Bear With Me', and follows this story after a break of six months. The other stories in this series which have been written, and Estel's age in each, are:  
  
Tearful at the Falling of a Star (4, 7)  
  
Phantasm (5)  
  
Every Move You Make (14)  
  
Colder Than it Looks Outside (15)  
  
If you liked this story, you might like those ones too. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed my story! 


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